These Small Victories
by littleroundbird
Summary: Lostpaw is the son of the legendary leader of ThunderClan, Fangstar - and he is not living up to expectations. As a clumsy, awkward, unfriendly, and generally disinterested apprentice, Lostpaw learns of a mystery that no one can hope to unravel... except for him
1. Chapter 1

**The air was crisp**, and the softly rustling leaves whispered to him as he stepped lightly down the path. It was his first time out of camp alone since his naming ceremony, and he intended to enjoy it for as long as possible until another cat called him to fetch something or complete some menial task. Lostpaw paused to arch his back and scratch against a rough pine tree, and then curled up at the base to pick the burrs from his pelt. Once he spat out the last one, he stretched and stood, a bubble of excitement in his chest at the opportunity to explore ThunderClan territory. He started back on the path, then decided against it, wanting to blaze his own trail. As he shouldered his way through a scraggly patch of brambles he felt as if nothing could bring him down.

The morning chill began to fade as sunhigh approached, leaving him in a state of warm, hazy sleepiness. His pawsteps were growing heavy, and he was being careless. The newleaf sun had lulled him into a blissful lack of wariness, so that he did not notice when he blundered directly in to another cat's hunt – which was a big taboo among the Clans. He blinked and glanced up, confused and embarrassed, when he noticed something. Something bad.

The cats whose hunt he had just ruined, he did not recognize. They smelled… different, and the land upon which he was standing was different than that of most ThunderClan territory: marshy and wet, with the sound of buzzing insects more prominent. Oh StarClan.

These were ShadowClan cats.


	2. Chapter 2

**The cats were bristling**, ready for a fight. Lostpaw sunk down to the ground; his throat felt tight, and every time he took a breath it felt like a sharp rock was lodged between his ribs. He berated himself, knowing that he was about to be clawed apart because he couldn't speak up, couldn't explain…

"Stop! Frogfur, Rotclaw, stand down! It's only an apprentice."

"A trespassing apprentice…" muttered the greenish-brown warrior. Lostpaw assumed that was Frogfur.

The cat who had spoken was a white tom, with flaming blue eyes and a voice like rolling thunder. He had a patch of brown fur on his left flank, but other than that his pelt was the color of fresh snow. His presence had an air about it that made you want to respect him. Lostpaw felt something catch in his throat. Had he wandered in to the ShadowClan _leader's_ hunt?

The white cat's gaze cut off Frogfur mid-sentence. When those blue eyes turned on Lostpaw, they softened – but only just.

"Young cat, what are you doing here? In case you hadn't noticed," he flicked his tail, gesturing to the vast marshy land that encompassed them, "this is ShadowClan territory."

Finding his voice (which came out as an embarrassing croak), Lostpaw spoke to defend himself, "I'm sorry, sir, I was walking and I guess I wasn't paying attention, I swear I'm not here to spy or anything." He swallowed loudly.

The white cat laughed quietly, "I would hope not! If you were ThunderClan's best candidate to spy, I would fear for them!" he chuckled again, as did the other two cats, although belatedly. "My name is Scorchfang. I am the ShadowClan deputy. What do they call you?"

Lostpaw met the older cat's eyes for the first time; "My name is Lostpaw."

This made Rotclaw snicker, his weasel eyes narrowing, "Really living up to his name, isn't he Frogfur? Hehehehe." It made Lostpaw's ears burn.

Scorchfang didn't laugh. He merely glanced back at the two other warriors.

Eventually it was decided that there was no need for the Clan leaders to get involved in this (to Frogfur and Rotclaw's dismay), and that Scorchfang would escort the apprentice back to his own Clan.

With quivering whiskers and frantic eyes, Lostpaw stood with Scorchfang, watching the other two ShadowClan warriors heading back to their own camp – empty pawed, thanks to Lostpaw's blunder. Once they were pretty far off, Scorchfang turned and started walking toward the ThunderClan scent line. Lostpaw followed him, close but not too close, his breath short and his tail twitching nervously.

Scorchfang chuckled lightly; "Can't you calm that tail down, son?"

The ShadowClan deputy's humor surprised Lostpaw, and he jerked his tail down forcefully so that it brushed the grass. He tried to square his shoulders, but when he did that they shook, so he let them slump. He slunk, feeling a mix of shame and fear burning a hole in his stomach.

"Sorry, Scorchfang. This was my first time out of camp alone since I had my naming ceremony a few days ago and I was walking for a while and the sun was making me sleepy and I didn't notice the scent lines and-" a flick of the white tom's tail cut him off. No words needed to be said. All was forgiven, just like that, with the twitch of a tail.

StarClan, why was this cat helping him? ShadowClan cats were supposed to be mistrustful and itching for a fight, not… not so easy to trust, so quick to forgive. Who was this cat? Why was he doing this?

Eerily enough, the white tom answered his unspoken question; "I'm doing this because you remind me of my son, Lostpaw. He died last leafbare. He was always ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time." His voice was heavy and full of love and sadness when he said this.

Tentatively, Lostpaw pushed his luck. "What was his name?"

"Swiftblood. He fell off a cliff, the day after his naming ceremony. He was all I had left." Scorchfang stopped abruptly – his right paw lashed out and ripped a shard of bark off a nearby tree, and he shredded it. Then he squared his shoulders again and turned back to Lostpaw.

"I'm assuming we're near to your camp by now. This is where I leave you. Be careful, Lostpaw. You reek of ShadowClan territory." He started walking off, then said without turning his head, "Stay safe, Lostpaw."

Lostpaw watched the ShadowClan deputy walk off, until he was swallowed by the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Lostpaw! StarClan, where have** you been all day? And why do you reek?" Fangstar glared at him through narrowed eyes. The joys of having the Clan leader as a father.

Lostpaw had rolled in a patch of fox dung – yes, fox dung – to cover up the marshy scent of ShadowClan territory. "Sorry, I fell asleep." He said bluntly, beginning to turn away.

"I am not only the Clan leader, but I am your father! And I deserve your respect." Hissed Fangstar. Cats were starting to look over now, so the oh so mighty leader of ThunderClan quickly dragged his son into the leader's den for some degree of privacy.

"You fell asleep. You were gone from dawn til nearly nightfall. I thought a badger had gotten to you! I was about to send a search party out to save your miserable skin." Fangstar was pacing the length of his den tightly, his pawsteps tense and controlled and his ears laid flat against his skull. His shiny storm-gray pelt heaved with each angry breath, and his green eyes –a mirror image of Lostpaw's- were sparking with fury.

"Father, I'm sorry, I made a mista-"

Fangstar cut him off a hiss. His tail was whipping back and forth with rage, and he looked ready to flay something.

"I'm tired of excuses from you, fox dung. Shape up, pull your weight, start acting like the son of a leader for StarClan's sake! Or I'll banish you from ThunderClan." His lip pulled back in a harsh smirk, revealing rows of sharp white teeth, "This Clan has no room for the worthless." Then with a sharp flick of his tail he gestured that it was time for his son to get out.

Lostpaw was not good at making friends.

Even as a kit, it was easier for him to stay inside the queen's den with his mother than go out and play 'catch the leaf' with the others. Lostpaw was the only one in his litter – a rarity among cats – which the medicine cat believed meant that he was destined to be a legend. The medicine cat (whose name was Fernface) was a doddering old she-cat who never bothered to mention what sort of legend he was supposedly meant to be.

A legendary piece of fox dung, his father would probably say.

As a kit he was small for his age, and underweight (shocker). He was awkward and had gangly kitten legs that he never grew out of, really and, best of all, he had a wandering eye! That's right folks – whenever this poor son of one met the eyes of another cat as best he could… they flinched away.

Naturally this discouraged much social activity, on his part.

So Lostpaw, at an early age, decided to do what he had to, quietly, and keep to the background of the Clan. But the problem was, there were certain things expected of the son of a Clan leader – especially such a brave and tactful leader like Fangstar. So his whole 'fade into the background' strategy only worked until he became a 'paw.

He and Fangstar had never gotten along, but after his training began… StarClan, did things escalate fast. Lostpaw was mouse dung at fighting. He didn't have the reflexes, or the patience. He was selfish, passive aggressive, and unfriendly. His only area of expertise was hunting – somehow he was a natural, able to sniff and stalk prey with more skill than some of the elder warriors. It was the way that hunting only ever required one cat, himself. He didn't have to rely on anyone else. Aside from that, keeping his mouth shut, staying in the background… it was his nature. Finally there was somewhere in his miserable life where he could apply it.

So now, here he was. Hunting. Thinking about how he was just one stinking bag of meat and fur to his father, nothing but a disappointment, a failure.

His claws curled into the soft earth beneath him. He shook his head ever so slightly and pushed the thoughts out of his brain, all the anger, the shame, the hatred. He opened his mouth and breathed in silently, letting the musky scent of the mouse hit his scent glands. The little creature was scuttling beneath an oak tree, completely unaware, searching for something to eat. Lostpaw resisted the pounce, knowing that he would miss.

Ah! There it was. The mouse had turned its back on him completely!

He leaped, hitting the mouse square on its tiny back with his slender paws, and killing it with a quick nip to the spine. It went limp in his jaws, and with the coppery taste of its blood came that of a small victory.

He could keep living this way, so long as he could have these. These small victories.


	4. Chapter 4

**That was right about** when he was bowled over by some unseen assailant. He was slammed ungracefully into an oak tree, the rough bark digging into his spine. Stinking breath accosted his face, and he coughed, dropping his mouse. Dull claws dug into his chest, and he lay belly-up and trapped, afraid and ashamed. Again.

A low, rumbling sound escaped the slack jaws of the cat who had him pinned – like a growl, but… it didn't sound like it was coming from his assailant. More like… from inside the cat. He angled his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the cat's face, but all he could see was ungroomed brown fur full of leaf bits and clinging burrs. He tried to claw at the cat's underbelly (the only fighting move he knew really), but the cat leaped off of him, continuing to emit that strange almost-growl.

Lostpaw yowled, his fur bristling, when he noticed the cat's face. And it blew all the fight right out of him.

"Fernface?"

The medicine cat's eyes were blank and pupiless, and her mouth hung open. A loop of greenish saliva hung from her jaws, and she stared straight ahead, when suddenly… a thin mist began to creep its way out of her mouth.

The mist was an unnaturally bright green, and soon it was swirling around their paws, fountaining from Fernface's jaws. Lostpaw was frozen, fascinated and terrified, watching the mist lick at his feet. The pure black apprentice quickly became nothing but a silhouette as the green fog filled the clearing. In three heartbeats the stuff was so thick you couldn't cut it with a claw, no matter how sharp. A flutter of panic was flitting around frantically in his chest.

"Fernface! What in StarClan's name is going on?"

There was no answer except for that monotonous growl-but-not-growl and the rasping of old breath. He sat like that, still but wanting to run, as the mist became thicker and thicker…

"Lostpaw!" Fernface had pinned him again, her pupiless black eyes staring into his. They were pressed nose to nose, and Lostpaw flinched from her breath and the fog still trickling from her jaws.

"Find the lost one. The standing peace between us depends on it!"

Then she went limp and left him in the haze of his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**-**_another short chapter. sorry guys!__**-**_

**"Lostpaw! Are you alright?" **Wolfpaw padded up behind him, making him almost jump out of his skin.

"I'm fine, I just… StarClan, Wolfpaw, I've had the weirdest day." The sun had already been swallowed by the horizon when he'd gotten back to camp, dazed with the mouse clenched in his jaws so hard that he'd left neat round holes in its flesh.

The reeling stars above reflected in Wolfpaw's blue eyes, making them sparkle, quite literally, with curiosity. As the young tom curled into a soft-furred ball of gently heaving gray fur, gesturing with a lethargic flick of his tail for Lostpaw to sit down.

With a flicker of nervousness and excitement, Lostpaw sat down and, with his tail lashing he launched into his story, from the ShadowClan cats to Fernface's episode. Wolfpaw watched his vivid recollections quietly, saying nothing, his face betraying no emotion. Wolfpaw was good at that. He was Lostpaw's best and, only, true friend – loyal but unreadable when he wanted to be, clever and tactful, good at everything Lostpaw wasn't.

When Lostpaw finished his report he looked intensely at his companion, looking for any hint at what he was thinking, but of course there was nothing. For a stretched and electrified moment they sat in silence. Lostpaw awkwardly gave his chest fur a few quick licks, and swiped a paw across his face, waiting for Wolfpaw to say something. Finally the tenseness was too much, and he had to speak.

"Wolfpaw?"

"StarClan, you're in deep."

Lostpaw let out a short breath of relief. He didn't think he was lying. He yawned loudly, and then flicked his tail towards the fresh-kill pile. He started padding over, his stomach yowling, feeling a flicker of happiness at the soft sound of Wolfpaw's pawsteps on the ground, following him.

Stooping over the dead prey, he selected his own mouse (since it was full of his teeth holes) and ripped into it gracelessly. Wolfpaw snickered at the other cat's blood-smeared muzzle, snatching a sparrow for himself, "You eat like a kit!"

Lostpaw bared his sharp white (well, usually white) fangs in a grin and darted forward, rasping a tongue over Wolfpaw's ear. Wolfpaw batted at him softly, claws sheathed and eyes smiling, and they broke into a tussle, prey forgotten.

"You two! Apprentices! Some cats are trying to sleep! Stop acting like kits!" said a sleep-thickened voice from the warrior's den. Owlscream. Oops.

The two glanced at each other, faces drawn up but eyes still laughing, and dug into their prey silently before padding softly to the overcrowded apprentice's den one three steps behind the other.


	6. Chapter 6

_author's note: longer chapter for today! thanks for your patience._

**Oh StarClan. Training today. **

And Lostpaw knew that his mentor wasn't much happier about it than he was.

Usually, being chosen to train the kit of a leader is a great honor, and on the day of Lostpaw's naming ceremony, Thornfang was thrilled to be his mentor. Until it was discovered that Lostpaw did not display any desire to become a warrior like his father, and that he was, frankly, terrible at fighting. Despite Thornfang's efforts, his moves were sloppy at best – at worst, they would get him killed in a real battle. He was pitiful, a poor excuse for a Clan leader's son. Not only that, but Lostpaw did not seem to be making any effort to conform to what the Clan wanted him to be.

So battle training was hell for the both of them.

Lostpaw winced as he dragged himself out of his nest. The only thing Thornfang never found fault with in his apprentice was his punctuality. Lostpaw was always on time, sometimes even early, to meet his mentor. It was the least he could do. He didn't feel much guilt over not pouring his heart and soul into training, but he was ashamed of his lack of battle skills – ironically. The shame was worth it though. As long as he could get through his life never becoming a shriveled up piece of fox dung like his father, he would be content being the shunned invalid that he was. At least he could hunt better than any cat in the Clan – not that his father would know. Every catch Lostpaw brought home was pinned on luck.

He quickly groomed a few clinging scraps of moss bedding out of his pelt and took off at a soft lope towards the training hollow. The only other cats he passed, the only other cats awake, were the guards from last night – for the sky was still in morning darkness, and they were still at their posts. One of them called to them as he reached the edge of camp.

It was Lightfeather, the ThunderClan deputy. She beckoned him over with the flick of her ginger-and-white tail. He sighed quietly and walked over to her.

"Good morning Lostpaw. Where are you going so early?" Lightfeather always had a soft spot for Lostpaw – between the poor cat's father and the Clan's expectations of him, she could understand his vacancy and flightiness. She did her best to look out for him when she could.

"I'm headed to the training hollow. Thornfang should be out there soon." He said quickly, not meeting her eyes. He stared awkwardly down at his own paws, looking uncomfortable.

"Maybe I could come with you and brush up on my battle moves – even teach you something." Before he had a chance to refuse, she stood up and stretched, her muscles screaming from being cramped into one position all night. Then she swept him along, heading in the direction of the training hollow, tapping him on the shoulder with her tail tip in a gesture for him to follow.

She smiled. Maybe she could be friends with him, help him on his way to be warrior.

Lostpaw followed her with his ears twitching and the awkwardness tangible in the air – at least for him. Her fluffy tail swaying back and forth was irritating him for some reason, but she was ranked higher than him, much higher, so he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want her here. The only thing that got him through battle training days were his solitary mornings, and having her here almost made him angry.

She was pretty, for a she-cat, he guessed, but the likelihood of her finding him attractive was low, so he assumed that she was doing this to help him get his act together. 'Start actively participating in Clan life' as his father would say. He wondered if Fangstar had recruited the pretty young deputy to make Lostpaw like her, so that she'd have more of an influence over him. She'd have a tough time with that, certainly, considering…

But what if she wasn't doing it for Fangstar? What if she was just being nice? Or, StarClan forbid, was actually interested in his wellbeing? The idea was so foreign to him that he dismissed it immediately.

He was going to ask her about her motives, but by the time he had worked up the nerve they were at the training hollow.

"Okay, _apprentice_," she sneered playfully, crouching in a defensive position, "Rush me!"

Lostpaw looked at her like she'd just sneezed out a mouse. After a minute of awkward waiting, he realized that the challenge glittering in her blue eyes was real. He actually smiled for a heartbeat, before closing his eyes and straight up charging her – just like she'd said. She leapt out of the way gracefully and while he was still trying to slow down, she jumped onto his back, her front paws on his shoulders, and brought him crashing down. She hopped off him before hit the ground and swatted at his ears a few times before rolling over laughing.

"Yeah yeah, hilarious." He said, shame burning through his pelt. He just got his ass kicked by the Clan deputy.

"It was pretty funny actually." Lightfeather's white and ginger fur was dusty and ruffled, sticking up in weird places, and she shook it out in a vain attempt to fix it.

"At least I mussed your fur in the process!" Lostpaw said.

"Yeah, I guess you did, but you shouldn't be talking! I thought you were a black cat, not a tabby!" she snickered, gesturing towards his dirt-striped pelt with a soft white paw.

Suddenly he felt something in his chest – kinship for this cat. Not knowing what to do with this, he flicked his tail, smirking, and tackled her.

The only reason he managed to pin her was because it was a surprise attack, and she was laughing so hard she was gasping. He was laughing too, only just now realizing it. Slowly he untangled himself from her.

When she stood up, he looked up from grooming himself and stuck out his tongue; "I finally pinned you!"

That was when Thornfang and all of his royal grumpiness strode into the clearing, "Lightfeather? What's going on?"

Lightfeather smiled at Lostpaw before turning to Thornfang and saying in the tone of a deputy, "Thornfang, today I want you to train Wolfpaw. He needs someone to help him with his bird stalking technique – you're better at it than me. I'll take Lostpaw. Okay?"

Thornfang just nodded, looking suspicious but not daring to speak against the word of the deputy.

Lostpaw smiled to himself. Maybe having Lightfeather help him train wouldn't be a bad thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**He was hunting. But**, for once, he wasn't alone.

He'd promised Wolfpaw that today they could alone, together. Lostpaw, of course, had made a stellar effort to get out of it, but Wolfpaw shot down all of his excuses pretty quick. The idea of hunting with Wolfpaw and having no one else around made him nervous. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like it. Any of it. Wolfpaw was his friend. Why was it that he felt so strange around him?

Lostpaw brushed the thought away, glancing back at the cat in mention. Wolfpaw was smirking and he had the same glitter of challenge in his eyes when he padded up softly to Lostpaw and whispered in his ear.

"Bet I'll catch more than you, Lostpaw."

That almost made Lostpaw laugh, but he stifled it, so that he wouldn't scare off any potential meals nearby. Challenging him to a hunting contest? For StarClan's sake, not only was he the best hunter in the Clan, it was the only thing he was good at! And the whole reason he was out here was to _help_ Wolfpaw with his hunting techniques. This whole situation smelled wrong to him.

Wolfpaw was crawling, keeping his body low and his movements tight and controlled. Had he scented something?

Lostpaw raised his muzzle, opening his mouth and breathed deeply, letting the forest smells hit his scent glands. He smelled molding leaves, the traces of some stale mouse dung, and of course, Wolfpaw – but no prey. What was going on?

Wolfpaw continued his pseudo-stalking, his tail flicking tightly back and forth. He made no noise, setting his paws down lightly, his eyes set on some unknown target. Then he straightened up and whisked his tail back and forth, grinning. He stared at Lostpaw, waiting for approval or criticism. After a minute, Wolfpaw frowned.

"Was my technique so bad?"

Lostpaw blinked like an owl. He'd been demonstrating!

"No, it was excellent, just next time keep your tail still, and watch your belly fur – it almost brushed some leaves." Lostpaw said quickly, trying to make up for the awkward silence.

"Almost being the key word." Wolfpaw smiled. Then he looked away at nothing in particular, his brow furrowed and his body slightly tensed up, "Lostpaw, I… I really like y-"

He was cut off by the sudden eruption of a bush behind him. Dog!

_author's note: raise your hand if you think these two are gay little shits_


	8. Chapter 8

**Lostpaw's heart was thudding** painfully against his ribs and his eyes were aching in their sockets but he couldn't move, couldn't do anything.

The dog was big, a sleek and monstrous creature with loops of saliva hanging from its open jaws. Its yellowed teeth were sharp, but its dark eyes were blank. It wagged its tail, looking down at Wolfpaw with more curiosity than malice. Was it... was it going to hurt them?

Wolfpaw's back was arched, the fur lifted along his spine. His teeth were bared and his ears flattened against his skull in a display of fury. His claws were out and digging into the moss beneath his feet, and he looked like he could straight up kill this dog. But the dog had yet to make any sort of move to attack them.

Suddenly its huge boxy head turned, and Lostpaw could hear the sound of a far off twoleg yowling in its made up language. The dog turned to face them, its massive pink tongue lolling out, looking dopey. Then it turned and loped off, towards the sound of the twoleg gibberish, leaving them stunned, confused, and completely unharmed.

When it was a good distance away, Wolfpaw turned to the other apprentice, his eyes wide and his mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Lostpaw's body was still entirely rigid, his eyes starting to burn as he realized he hadn't blinked throughout the entire incident.

"I suppose we should tell Fangstar." Wolfpaw said blankly, his eyes betraying that he was still in shock.

Lostpaw's body slowly untensed, and he blinked slowly, "You tell my father."

They walked back to camp in silence, dazed. The dog hadn't even... hadn't even tried to hurt them. It just... stared, with its dull black eyes. And then it just walked away. How did that happen? It was unheard of. Maybe... Maybe StarClan had smiled upon Lostpaw just this once, gifted him a bit of luck because he was on the right path.

But what was that right path? Actually working at becoming a warrior? Helping a Clanmate? Or... was Wolfpaw the choice StarClan wanted him to make?

The whole thing made his head hurt. But by then they had reached the edge of camp.

"I'll go report to Fangstar. I'll meet you by the freshkill pile after... StarClan, am I hungry." said Wolfpaw. His voice was easy, and his shoulders were squared up again, with his tail high and swaying. Huh. Guess the shock had worn off.

Not quite knowing what else to do, he agreed, feeling a clawing in his stomach. He was hungry too, apparently. He trotted over to the freshkill pile, selecting a sparrow and clearing his mind of everything except for filling his yowling belly.

Apparently he'd been eating for a while, because by the time he looked up Wolfpaw was only just emerging from the leader's cave. However, on his tail was Fangstar, who pushed past him, striding forward and looking determined. Fangstar bounded across the clearing and leapt up to the Great Rock, his muscular shoulders rippling as he threw back his head and yowled.

"All cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Great Rock for a Clan meeting!" His voice rang throughout the clearing with a quality that made you want to listen to what he had to say. And, despite his hatred for the old cat, Lostpaw was curious as to what he was going to announce to the Clan about -presumably- the dog.

"It has come to my attention that it is time for one of our apprentices to earn his warrior name!" There was a collective gasp from the gathered Clan below. How could this be? The oldest warrior was 5 moons into his training, and to be eligible for your warrior name, you had to complete six!

"Despite his age, he has shown more valor today then some of our young warriors! Wolfpaw, come here."

Lostpaw almost screeched. How? He and Wolfpaw had shared an apprentice ceremony only 3 moons ago! And, if Fangstar was going to take this bold step against the warrior code because of the fluke with the dog, he'd have to name Lostpaw too!

"Today, Wolfpaw fended off a dog in the forest, by himself! My son was there as well but he was... of no use." Fangstar said with distaste. Wolfpaw looked like he wanted to say something, but Fangstar continued, "Because of this, I feel that we need to bend the rules to honor this brave young cat! From this day forward, Wolfpaw will be known as Wolfheart!"

For two tense heartbeats the Clan was silent. Wolfheart glanced around, looking afraid and confused and a little bit angry, but his mouth was clamped shut. To speak against the word of a Clan leader was to question the warrior code, but… surely everyone knew that this wasn't right?

After a few endless moments of this, Smokepaw took up the chant, followed by Wolfheart's old mentor Lightfeather. And then, from one by one to the whole of the Clan, the clearing was filled with the beautiful thrumming of everyone calling the new warrior's name.

For a moment Lostpaw forgot the wrongness of it all and took up the mantra, pushing the jealousy and the anger to the back of his mind, "Wolfheart! Wolfheart!"

But when the Clan slowly settled back down and Wolfheart slowly started walking through the crowd to leave, the feeling that he had been treated unfairly by his father stabbed at his chest so hard and fast that he forgot to breath for a heartbeat. And then he was just mad. Purely and completely _pissed_, tail lashing, heart racing, stalking angrily toward the leader's den.

Before he got there, however… Fangstar himself stepped in his path.

"Come with me. Now." His voice was low and gravelly, loosening the vise that the anger held in his heart just enough to let in a sliver of fear.

Then the ThunderClan leader whipped around, tensed, each footstep purposeful and carefully placed. Unconsciously, Lostpaw followed him, part of him afraid to do so and the other part, afraid of what would happen if he didn't.


End file.
